


Motor

by yeaka



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-15 00:08:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21024494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: They drive back from the station.





	Motor

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Set during the movie. Fair warning that this isn’t properly British.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Downton Abbey or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Relief still courses through him, powerful and cloying, but not _quite_ enough to drown out the underlying sorrow. It would be just his luck, too. He finds the scene of his dreams, like an oasis in the desert, and he gets just enough time to dip his foot into the cooling waters, but before he can really _dive in_, it all gets ripped away. His heart goes out to every man still stuck in the station—men who will likely face prison just for a simple dance.

Thomas had been ready to do a lot more than dance. He was cautious at first, always tries to be, but his desire to just _be happy_ always topples him in the end. He’d gone from skeptical to mystified to delighted in the span of a few minutes, and then he’d become so elated that he really would’ve dragged the tall man with the mustache right out into the back-alley.

It’s probably better that he didn’t. He definitely would’ve been caught. Thomas can never catch a break, although, he reminds himself, he is currently sitting next to one. 

His eyes trail over to the man in the driver’s seat, both hands on the wheel and gaze on the road. It’s late enough that the streets are mostly empty, and the ride is a quiet one, quieter inside the car. Thomas mutters again, “Thank you.” A part of him still screams to do _more_ than that—to really show his gratitude. He wants to move his hand onto Richard Ellis’ thigh and squeeze it, wants to look into Richard’s eyes and prove how much this meant to him. But he’s learned his lesson and sits still. 

Richard notes, “Yes, I believe you said that already.”

Thomas snorts shallowly and turns himself back towards the window. “Well, I meant it.”

Richard nods. Thomas watches his reflection remove one hand from the wheel.

It reaches over into Thomas’ lap, clasping around his bandaged hand. His breath catches. Richard runs his thumb soothingly across the knuckles. He doesn’t say anything with it, but he doesn’t have to. Thomas isn’t stupid—he can at least read _some_ signs.

His breath returns when that hand slips away. But his heart beats faster. He watches the abbey loom up in the distance and wonders if this will be the night he _finally_ gets some peace.


End file.
